


The Fall of Ironheel

by avulle



Category: Homestuck, Star Trek
Genre: Gen, I just wanted to see the Federation fuck up Alternia's shit a little bit, Sisko Best Star Trek Captain 2019, Sisko might be a little bit OOC here, also, but really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-12 16:05:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18013997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/avulle/pseuds/avulle
Summary: You are Atarka Inlank (Ironheel), Captain of the Alternian navy, loyal servant of Her Imperious Condescension (long may she rule). You are a powerful troll! Blueblooded, and proud of it. You kill and you main as it is your right, you have burned planets and slaughtered species.You are currently being detained by the moral equivalent of a traffic cop.





	The Fall of Ironheel

You are Atarka Inlank (Ironheel), Captain of the Alternian navy, loyal servant of Her Imperious Condescension (long may she rule). You are a powerful troll! Blueblooded, and proud of it. You kill and you main as it is your right, you have burned planets and slaughtered species.

You are currently being detained by the moral equivalent of a traffic cop. On Alternia, you would be within your rights to murder a traffic cop that dared to stop you for running over some lowbloods.

But, unfortunately, you are not currently on alternia.

Right now, across from you, stands a human, his face clear of the fear he should be feeling for you, his skin disgusting and thin and weak. He is flapping his lips in the squelching, disgusting speech of his people.

“You understand, of course,” he is saying, or rather, the translation button on his label is saying. “We found you in Federation space. There are procedures to be followed, we don’t like this anymore than you do.”

Fuck Federation space. Fuck the Federation. You will eat these fuckers alive, suck the marrow from their bones, scoop their sponges out of their pans. The fact The Condesce (long may she rule) suffers these clawless, chitinless fuckers to live is beyond your fucking comprehension.

“I have places to be, human,” you tell him, clenching your hands into fists, blue blood welling around your claws. Troll blood is poisonous to humans, you’ve heard, and you want to shove your claws down his throat until he fucking chokes on it.

“Captain Ironheel,” he says, his lips twisted, just a little sarcastic, “no need to be so formal. Please, call me Sisko.”

The growl that rips from your throat is entirely involuntary.

He smiles. He doesn’t even flinch.

He isn’t fucking _scared of you_.

“We would be honored to have you onboard the Starship Defiant while we search your ship—have you ever been on a holodeck before? We just had ours upgraded—top of the line—it’ll make whatever fantasy you have come true.”

Your fantasies are about murdering things, and you don’t need a fucking holodeck to fulfill them because killing things is your fucking job. (Your Condesce given fucking right.)

“Thank you for your… “ condescension “consideration. But I would prefer to wait.”

“Are you sure?” he asks. “On my station, I’ve had Klingon visitors before. They quite enjoyed our holodecks—their favorite pasttime was setting them up to make me, and then killing the fake me over and over again.” He laughs, like it’s a joke.

He is on your ship. Surrounded by your crew.

His crew is nowhere to be seen.

You could have an accident. The Condesce has ordered you not to kill these stupid, pale humans (to not start a war), but she doesn’t have to know.

He is still smiling, when his other lapel beeps, and he taps the translation button off before tapping it. You signal behind your back to record the message that won’t be translated for you, as he squeals and squelches to his lapel, and it squeals and squelches at him.

It stops, and he taps his translation button back on, still all smiles.

“Well, I’ve got some good news, and I’ve got some bad news for you. Which would you like to start with?”

You growl, no interest in playing this stupid human’s games.

“So, good news! You don’t seem to be carrying any contraband, and your ship isn’t in our records to be detained.” 

You growl. “Then—”

“Bad news, your ship, like every stupid in your entire fucking army, is powered by a slave.”

You blink, and it takes you a moment to realize he is talking about your helmsman.

“A helmsman,” you correct.

“A slave. And, I’m not sure if you knew this, Captain Ironheel, but slavery is illegal in the Federation.” He is still smiling, but his smile no longer reaches his wet, watery eyes, and only serves to bare his blunt white herbivore teeth. “You’re going to have to give her to us.”

You are struck dumb, for a moment. This human thinks you will give up your helmswoman. You are ten light years into Federation space—if you give up your helmswoman, you’ll never leave.

“I know what you’re thinking,” he says, holding his hands up in front of you, like he’s trying to pacify you, like he’s your fucking moirail. (You don’t need a fucking Moirail, you’ve got this all locked down pat.) “We can’t give up our helmswoman, we’d never able to leave federation space. We’re too far in.”

He looks at you expectantly, and you nod, teeth clenched.

“Well, tough shit.” He’s no longer smiling. “You shouldn’t fly your fucking starships with slaves, Ironheel. Now we’re not allowed to chase you slaving fuckers outside of federation space for reasons that are beyond my fucking comprehension—but fuck if I’m gonna let you get away with your slaving bullshit in our space.”

You blink, momentarily stunned by the gall of this weak, pathetic human. His skin is so soft you can see his disgusting candy red blood through his pale skin. He thinks he can fucking stop you?

“Hand her over or die, Ironheel. And also—” your intercoms crackle on, and his next words echo throughout the entire ship “—The Federation is always open for refugees.”

“That was your last mistake, human,” you say, equipping your pike. He doesn’t even get a chance to blink before you drive your pike straight through him.

“Yeah,” he says, his chest rippling around your pike. “That’s kind of what I thought you would say.”

Your tech officer cries out, “I’ve lost control of our systems!” The bridge goes dark, the doors slam closed.

The human vanishes, like he was never there, which you suppose he wasn’t. Fuck, you hate The Federation. So much.

You slam your fists against the door, stab it with your pike, but it doesn’t budge because it was designed not to budge. You take your irritation out on your tech officer (fucking oliveblood) and then your navigation officer (cerulean) because why not!

The doors open, the same stupid, thin-skinned pink human stands in the doorway, two more humans behind him, his weird human stun weapon held up before him.

“Now why’d you have to go do something like that.”

Behind him, you see your helmswoman, her black skin streaked with yellow, through one of _your halls_ on a fucking stretcher. To your intense displeasure, her chest is still moving.

“I didn’t mention it because, well—I thought it was pretty obvious—but murder is illegal in Federation space, too.”

There are twenty troll feet between you, but you only make half that before his stun weapon flashes, and catches you in the chest, dropping you to your knees.

He walks up to you, like he’s got all the time in the world, while the two humans behind him take care of the rest of your bridge crew, and he crouches down by your head. You try and move, gut him, but you can’t move.

“There’s something I want you to know,” he says, his translator pitched low, in a guttural, clicking whisper. “You’re going to be going to one of our jails for a long, long time. Not only that, but sixty-three of your ninety-two crew are coming with us. Rustbloods and brownbloods and yellowbloods and hell, even one or two teals and ceruleans. And they’re gonna be freer than you ever will be again.”

He drops his stun weapon to your temple, and—

“Filthy human I will paint the fucking walls with your—”

—with a thoroughly vicious smile that wouldn’t look out of place on a troll, he pulls the trigger.

Your world goes dark.

**Author's Note:**

> Let's talk a little bit about how Sisko is obviously the greatest Star Trek captain there has ever been. (Also, the most willing to commit straight up murder.)
> 
> Also, I have same anger issues to work out about how awful Alternia is. In case it isn't clear, this is me working out those anger issues.


End file.
